Good Intentions
by goldthread-silverlining
Summary: Tag to 14x12- Re-uploaded (the first try messed up)- The conversation in the Impala where Dean mentioned how John would send him away? that's this. Pre-series


The phone rang, breaking the eerie silence of the dilapidated living room; causing the two men reading lore at the table to startle. The older of the two gave brusque responses as the other end of the line did the majority of the talking. The younger man's attention was quickly grabbed by the last thing his father said into the phone.

"Good, he'll be there by tomorrow." With that John Winchester snapped the phone shut, directing his attention back towards the research. Dean stared at his father, waiting for the inevitable order that was about to send his insides reeling.

Testing the waters, Dean spoke up, "Who was that?"

John didn't look up from the book in front of him, "Caleb. Pack your things, he's got a hunt in Wisconsin for the two of you. You need to head out soon if you're gonna make good time." There was no emotion in his voice. Just pure command, leaving room for nothing aside from unquestioned obedience.

Dean bit his lip and nodded, knowing full well this was his sentence for the events that transpired the night before. "What about Sam?"

Without raising his head, John glared at his oldest, "He'll be fine. Besides, it's not like you could actually do anything useful, we saw how that attempt turned out."

Dean clenched his jaw, physically restraining himself from arguing. Normally he was the one playing peacemaker, with Sam and John at odds almost constantly. But he was not in the mood to be berated by his father _again_. As if he wasn't aware how bad he fucked this one up. Somehow he managed to restrain himself to a simple, "I'll go pack."

~_The night before~_

"_How does double or nothin' sound?" Dean asked, giving one of his classic grins. The grin that made most girls swoon, and most guys jealous. Tonight however, he wasn't playing for fun. At least, that's what he told himself. And it was partly true. Sammy was sick, and needed his prescription refilled. They were running low on cash, and not even God could tell when John would be coming back. No, he had to do this. _

_Not that Dean couldn't find an honest day-job, but their motel of residence for the time being was in a rough part of town, to say the least. And there was no way he was leaving his sick and vulnerable kid-brother alone for longer than he absolutely had to. He had to do this. _

_Having had a bit more to drink than he'd realized, he was neglectful of the fact that he did not have the cash for that kind of bet. Also remaining ignorant of the fact that the small group of three he'd been playing had doubled. He was woefully outnumbered in case things went sideways. _

_Looking back, he had made enough cash to get by. But he'd been reckless, overestimating his chances, which led to Dean being pinned against the wall when the group realized he didn't have the cash. Fortunately, John Winchester had arrived in the nick of time, bailing his oldest out of the beating of a lifetime. Unfortunately, he was about to get a significantly worse verbal one. _

_John had arrived home early, the hunt having actually gone smooth and according to plan for once. He'd listened to Dean's voicemail that Sam was still pretty sick, and his meds were running out, so he tried to get back as soon as possible. But what he came back to was not what he was expecting._

_John knew their living situation wasn't great, but it was the best he could do for the time being, and it wasn't a motel. He remembered quite clearly, reminding Dean not to leave his sick, unconscious, and therefore unguarded teenager alone for too long. Being in a shady neighborhood, someone would eventually notice the coming and going of people from the small house, and the last thing they needed was something happening. _

_He walked in to find the place dark and silent. Dread was the first thing that came to him as he rushed to the bedroom, only breathing upon seeing his youngest asleep. The question still remained, where the Hell was Dean? And more importantly, why had he left. John knew Dean would have to leave occasionally, but never this late. Especially when he directly ordered him to take care of Sam; not to leave him unless necessary. _

_Fortunately, he managed to find Dean at the first bar he came across. While John was pissed at his oldest, at least Dean had had the sense to stay fairly close. He walked in to find the 19-year-old about to get his last rights read to him, when he intervened, dragging the intoxicated young man out of the bar towards the Impala. _

"_What the _Hell _did you think you were doing?!" Dean might've been wasted, but his father's anger was sobering enough. _

"_Dad, I'm sorry, but Sammy's meds-"_

"_I don't give a rat's ass why, you shouldn't have been hustling alone. And drunk off your ass no less!" _

_Dean knew what his dad was saying was mostly true, but he was just drunk enough to not care for the moment. "It's not what you think, I had everything under control." _

"_You call that control?! Dammit Dean, I oughtta-" _

"_What, finish what they were about to start?" His newfound dissentient attitude surprising both Winchesters, John quickly recovered, his face gaining a deathly glare reserved only for few._

"_Don't test me boy. Get in the damn car."_

"_But the truck-"_

"_Can wait 'til tomorrow, get your ass in the car. Now." Dean bit back a retort, sliding into the Impala's passenger seat. "What were you thinking. Leaving Sam by himself this late." _

"_Dad he's fourteen, you're the one always telling me to stop treating him like he's five." _

"_He's been sick and mostly unconscious for the better part of two weeks now, you really think he could handle himself right now?"_

"_It was only for a little bit, I wasn't gone long." _

"_You shouldn't have been gone in the first place, I gave you a direct order. What if something had happened and I hadn't shown up. To you or Sam. What the Hell would you have been able to do." Dean didn't respond, knowing his father was right. He'd just gotten carried away, he swore to himself he wouldn't let it happen again. But doubt lingered, he'd told himself the same thing so many times before. _

_As they arrived back at the meager excuse for a house, John grabbed Dean's arm. "You need to get your priorities straight, and quick. I can't have you getting lazy on hunts, you'll get someone killed."_

"_Yes, sir." _

"_It better be a 'yes sir', I need you on your A-game, especially with Sam." _

"_Sam doesn't go out on hunts." _

"_Yeah, well that's gonna change real soon." _

_Dean's stomach dropped, the color draining from his face, "Dad, he's-" _

"_Old enough, like you said, he's fourteen. And you do need to stop coddling him, he can't afford to be soft. He needs to be able to get the job done, or it's gonna get him or someone else killed." _

"_I won't let that happen." _

"_You're damn right. If that's what it takes to get you set straight, then I'll have him hunting so much you'll be too focused on watching his back to pull stupid shit like this again." At that moment, Dean hated his father. John knew using Sam was the ultimate way to get to Dean. One way or another. _

_Thus the inevitable phone call from Caleb, after a day of uncomfortable silence, and shuffling around each other came as no surprise to Dean. John stayed in the living room, and Dean stayed with Sam in his line of vision, making sure he took his meds, and that he didn't hack up a lung. He'd heard his dad on the phone at one point, knowing things were about to go from bad to worse. _

_Sam was his ultimate weak spot, and it had become a pattern; whenever Dean royally fucked up, John took his brother away, by sending Dean on extended hunts with other hunters nearby. He'd usually be gone for a week, sometimes two. He and John had never explicitly addressed the pattern, and neither mentioned it to Sam. But they knew the score. And when Dean would come back, his kid-brother always seemed distant. Like he was disappointed that Dean would leave, just like their father. Especially when the brothers were the only real stability they had. As much as John was their father, he always had his mind on the hunt, he was never someone to be relied on. At least not in Sam's mind. It had always been Dean. But when the older brother would get sent away, that trust needed time to rebuild. _

_That was always the hardest part for Dean, having to put extra effort into fixing what had been broken in one fell swoop. _

_~present~_

Upon entering the bedroom he attempted to remain silent as he threw his clothes into his duffel, not wanting to wake his brother, who was sick with a bad case of pneumonia. The younger teen hadn't been sleeping well, so Dean didn't want to interrupt the little rest the kid did get. He threw his meager belongings together, and grabbed the keys to the impala off the dresser.

Before he could slip out, he heard a rough cough, then a groggy voice call his name, "Dean? Where you goin'?" The older brother set his bag down and went over to the side of his brother's bed. Knowing leaving was going to be a thousand times harder now that he'd have to say goodbye to the kid.

"Hey Sammy, didn't mean to wake you. Caleb called, he needs my help on a hunt a few states over. I gotta head out tonight."

The 14-year-old's face scrunched up in disappointment, being sick like this always made the teen more vulnerable with his emotions. Most likely just too exhausted to keep up with all the angst and pretenses of toughness that go with being his age. "Why can't dad do it?"

Dean sighed, not wanting to loop the kid into the argument that occurred the night before, or the actual reason why he was leaving. "'Cause dad's already working another case close to here. Don't worry it won't be for long. Couple of days."

Sam however, was not persuaded, "That's what dad always says." Dean's heart sank with guilt. He knew he was letting the kid down, but Sam and John were at each other's throats so much already, he couldn't afford make it worse.

It wasn't that he didn't trust their father with Sam. It's just that… well, Dean's the one who's been raising the kid. He knows all his quirks, what certain expressions and responses mean. The little things that John never took the time to notice. And without Dean to intervene, Sam would be left to deal on his own. Not that he wasn't more than capable, he was fourteen after all. But Dean knew he was somewhat over-protective as a brother/guardian. He had to be.

Not wanting to reveal his worry, he plastered on a smile, briefly brushed his hand through the teens hair. "I'll call and check in. I promise." With that, he got up and left. Knowing if he waited for a response, his brother would somehow talk him into staying, which wasn't an option. When it came to John's orders, they were final.

John raised his head as Dean exited the room, "How is he?"

Dean almost scoffed, _you'd know if you'd take the time to check on him once in a while, _he thought, "He still seems pretty out of it… His antibiotics needs refilling." The empty bottle still sat on the counter.

His father just nodded his head curtly, not giving in to the jab from the previous night. "He'll live 'til tomorrow." After a moment of tense silence, Dean simply nodded his head and left.

Three weeks and two days later, Dean came through the door, completely drained. The hunt had turned into a logistical nightmare, with anything and everything going wrong. To make things worse, He'd managed to get his phone crushed four days in, meaning he couldn't call to check in on Sam. Not that John had let him call much anyways, and only for a couple minutes at a time. John said it was because Sam needed his rest, but Dean knew that it was because it was part of his temporary exile. The only reason John let him talk to his brother at all during that time was to keep Sam from getting suspicious.

Dean threw his bag near the door, deciding unpacking was a problem for later. His main concern was his brother, who he hadn't heard from in over two weeks. John's truck wasn't out front, but he knew they were supposed to stay in town for another couple of days. As Dean entered the room he and his brother had been sharing, he noticed Sam's bed was empty. He knew the kid had to have gotten better by now, it had been weeks, but what worried him was that he wasn't in the small house.

Just before he was about to start freaking out, the front door opened to Sam carrying his backpack and a black eye.

"Sammy, where you been?"

The young teen scoffed lightly, "It's Sam, and I should be asking you the same thing. How'd the hunt go?"

"Oh you know, just your average- what the _Hell_ happened to your face?!" Dean took three long strides and he was across the room, cupping his brother's face tight enough that the kid couldn't pull away; and he tried. The fourteen-year-old was sporting a black eye; by the looks of it, it was just starting to heal, along with a split lip. But both were still pretty gnarly.

"Nothin' Dean, really."

"Oh yeah, your face looks like it went three rounds with a brick, but it's _fine_. Who the fuck did this?" Sam pulled away, and Dean finally let go of his brother, but keeping eye contact, knowing he'd have to get a name and address to fix this.

"Really, please, don't worry about it."

"Sammy-"

"It's Sam." The teen retorted sharply.

Dean rolled his eyes, but unwilling to let his brother change the subject, "_Sam_. Tell me. Now." He'd decided using his most parental 'do as you're told' voice would be more effective.

Sam let out an exasperated sigh before sitting down at the kitchen table, "It's none of your business okay? Just drop it."

Dean stood over the teenager, refusing to comply to his brother's request, "Someone using you as their personal punching bag is most certainly my business."

"Why do you care? We're leaving soon anyways."

Dean was taken aback by his brother's question, "Of course I care, why wouldn't I?!"

"Because you just left and didn't call for three weeks!" In that moment it clicked for Dean, Sam was upset about his temporary banishment.

"My phone got wrecked, I couldn't call."

"Why didn't dad tell me that? He only said you were busy." Dean rubbed a hand over his face, he knew he couldn't tell Sam the truth, but the kid would see through any lie he tried to pull.

"He probably just didn't want you worrying." Sam glared disapprovingly, clearly not buying it. "So, are you gonna tell me what happened or am I gonna have to get it out the hard way?"

After a moment of consideration, the younger brother gave in, but hesitantly, "Just some fight after school a couple days ago. It's nothing, I handled it."

"Define handled." He replied.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Dean-"

"Seriously Sam, you look like shit."

"Well what are you gonna do about it, huh? You weren't there, there's nothing you could've done. So just leave me alone alright? I have homework to do."

Dean felt the guilt rush back, as much as Sam's words had hurt, he was right. He hadn't been there; had he just kept things under control, John wouldn't've sent him away.

Reading the look on his brother's face, Sam immediately realized his mistake. "Dean I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Don't worry about it Sammy. It's the truth... Where is dad anyways?" He desperately wanted to change the topic now, not wanting his brother to find out the real reason he'd gone.

"He left almost a week ago. That's why I was at the library so late, he had me do some last minute research for a hunt." Dean nodded, practically feeling his blood boil. Of course John had left for a hunt as soon as Sam was better. He'd probably had it lined up, just waiting for the kid to be conscious long enough to not need supervision, before taking off.

"Did he mention when he was coming back?"

"The usual, '_couple of days' _spiel. But he mentioned another job in Arkansas once he does."

Dean didn't fail to notice the absolute dread on the kid's face. He knew how much Sam just wanted to stay in one place; how much he hated moving around. But this was their life, and that wasn't going to change. But that didn't mean he couldn't try to make his brother feel better, that was his job anyways. "Well why don't I go grab us something to eat? Can watch a movie or something."

"No thanks, I'm not hungry. I need to do my homework anyways, I have a paper coming up." Dean knew that they wouldn't be in town long enough for the kid to turn it in; they both knew that. But again, both pretended not to notice. Instead, Sam grabbed his backpack and went into the room they'd been sharing, closing the door behind him. Dean let out a sigh, before wiping a hand over his face. His brother was shutting him out. It'd take weeks to get on his good side again.

He heard John's voice in his head, _That's what happens when you don't obey orders. You want Sam? Then you gotta toe the line._ Dean knew he'd fix this. Sam was arguing more and more with their father, and they couldn't afford to have him start getting angry at him too. He knew that'd never happen, he and Sam were too close; but if John kept shipping him off every time he fucked up…

_I'll get it right this time,_ Dean told himself, _whatever it takes. _


End file.
